


The Reunion

by Morteamore



Series: Reunions [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: Rhys invites Zane Flynt to his mansion property on Eden-4. Zane introduces Rhys to his toy collection. A wild time ensues.An indirect sequel of sorts toBro-Union
Relationships: Zane Flynt/Rhys
Series: Reunions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715662
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	The Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift to my significant other for their birthday. They wanted more Zane/Rhys and made a suggestion to build upon what was established in _Bro-Union_. So I owe this entire work to them.

Promethea. 

It had been a planet most folk hadn’t wanted to set foot on alone once upon a time, with a reputation that surpassed even Pandora’s. Now it was transmogrified by the Atlas CEO, Rhys Strongfork, and had gained more than a semblance of civilization. Despite that fact, Zane Flynt hated being planetside on Promethea these days. Not because of Rhys or any such reason, but because it was bloody feckin’ boring. With no enemies to hunt, people living in peace and harmony with each other, and its best froyo shop having been rebuilt into a glorious homage to frozen treats, it was a businessman’s paradise. Which left nothing to bloody do on the planet save for take potshots at hipsters and watch local holovision programming, the latter of which was filled with melodramas.

The one thing that _was_ interesting on Promethea, however, was Rhys himself. It had been a few months since Zane had had his last encounter with the boyo, escorting him to Pandora as his bodyguard. Of course, what was toted as a bodyguard really turned out to mean third party in a threesome with his lover, the Bandit King Vaughn. Despite the wool having been pulled over his eyes at first, Zane still enjoyed his days on Pandora with the pair, relaxing in leisure, indulging in fine liquors, fucking. It had been such a delectable romp that Zane found himself at the Atlas Headquarters now, seeking out the man in charge. What he got instead was Lorelei and Zer0, ever Rhys’ vigilant watchdogs, both before and after the war against the Children of the Vault. They were protective and loyal, and Zane couldn’t fault them for that. 

“Sorry, mate, but you missed Rhys by a few hours,” Lorelei told him. “Probably wouldn’t mind a call from you, though. You should try his comm.”

Zane did just that, dialing up the CEO on his ECHO from the contact number Rhys had given him months ago on the **Sanctuary III**. It took a few rings, but soon the image of a mustachioed man wearing sunglasses came into view, crystalline blue waters serving as the backdrop. It looked like Rhys was relaxing on a beachy paradise planet, if the image was anything to go by.

“Hey, didn’t think I’d hear from you this soon.” Rhys used his pointer finger to push up his sunglasses, a white outline in their shape standing out against his sun-stroked skin. “What can I do for you, Zane?”

“Ah, well, ya see, boyo,” Zane started up, “I’m kinda on Promethea right bloody now. And I was thinking, oi, wonder what my pal Rhys is up to. Bet he’d be down to share a pint.”

There was a pause on the other end. Lifting half a hollowed pineapple filled to the brim with ice and some unidentified liquid, Rhys wrapped his mouth around the straw protruding from it and languidly sucked. He drew his mouth off of it after a few drawn out seconds.

“Is that so?” Though Rhys tried for a calm and collected tone, his voice warbled some. “You’re on Promethea, you say?”

“Yup, sure am.”

“I think we could still arrange something, then.” Another pause and another slurp of the unknown drink. “Are you at Atlas HQ, by any chance?”

“Sure am. Lorelei and Zer0 are right here with me.” Tilting his comm, Zane directed the screen toward them. They both waved, Zer0’s helmet lighting up with a smiley face emoticon to emphasize his point. 

“Great. One of them can escort you up to my office. I’ll give you the password for the fast travel and the coordinates.”

“Er, coordinates for what exactly, boyo?”

“What? Oh. Oh, yeah. I’m extending you an invitation to my mansion on Eden-4. You’re having dinner with me.”

“Oh, am I, now?”

“Yeah. Not just anyone gets to indulge in that kind of privilege. I just like you a whole lot.” And here Rhys winked at him, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Get ready for an evening in paradise.”

“Well, shite. Weren’t expectin’ that for sure. But no worries. ’M about as ready as somebody whose about to become a real lucky lad can be.”

XXX

Upon arriving at the other end of the Fast Travel coordinates Rhys relayed to him, Zane felt perfectly at ease. In fact, the tropical paradise surrounding him seemed to seep into his very pores, turning his muscles and bones into a relaxed soup. His arms were jelly as he made his way up on to the porch of the mansion, surprised he wasn’t stopped by any hi-tech security system. The door creaked open when he knocked, a tall, thin fellow dressed in neat and pressed clothing (though not necessarily formal) standing before him in the doorway. He bowed at the waist, pulling the front door open further.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Flynt,” the man said, stepping aside. “Mr. Strongfork told me he’d be expecting you.”

“Just Zane there, boyo,” Zane said as he stepped inside, patting the man on the shoulder. “Mister is for me old man, and I’ve never cared for the ole feck.”

“Certainly.” There was the shift of clothing as the man smoothed the material of his shirt down where Zane had ruffled it. “I’m Benson, groundskeeper here and Rhys’ butler. I’ll take your bag for you.”

Zane gripped one of the straps of the backpack he wore, swinging it out of Benson’s reach.

“Ah, no way, I don’t be thinkin’ so. That stays with meself.”

“Alright.” Hesitating, Benson gave Zane a once over, than seemed to realize what he was doing and straightened up, inclining his head. “Do you have any dietary restrictions or preferences? I can cater your meal to any taste that you’d prefer.”

“I do have meself a request. Cilantro. You put it anywhere near somethin’ I’m meant to put in me gob and I’ll bloody well kill ya. Also we better be avin’ afters. What’s supper without cake and poke?”

“I assure you, dessert will indeed not be skipped,” Benson said without missing a beat. “Mr. Strongfork does have a sweetooth, after all.”

“Aye, shoulda figured that for meself. Where is the boyo, anyway?”

“Enjoying the Olympic sized swimming pool. He instructed me to escort you to him upon your arrival. Did you bring adequate poolside clothing?”

Zane was shaking his head. “Nah, don’t need it. I’ll just strip down to me skivvies.”

There was almost no reaction from Benson. A slight twitch of his lips was all Zane got, which he couldn’t read much from. Perhaps it was silence in an attempt not to make an off color comment. The Operative had the urge to push his buttons, see if he could pry it out of him. But he decided to let it go once they were crossing the house, moving towards the French doors that led to the pool area outside. Hardly having time to take in his surroundings, Zane barely caught a glimpse of the opulent home, the rich, wooden floors and kitschy decorations surrounding hand-crafted furniture that looked like it came out of some dwelling from the distant past. It was charming, in a way, but Zane’s attention was more drawn on the figure currently settled back on a pool float, lanky frame sprawled out along it, drink tucked into a cup holder built in its outer ring. The float was shaped like a giant unicorn, and looked able to hold at least ten full grown people comfortably. Zane snickered at it. Trust Rhys to have something so ridiculously over-the-top yet so functional.

“Mister Strongfork,” Benson called without any regard for if he was interrupting Rhys. “Your guest has arrived.”

Already stripped of his backpack, Zane laid it on a lounge chair and was shrugging out of his coat then peeling off the initial layer of his top. As his hands reached for the buckle of his belt, Benson bowed to him once more, turning away.

“I’ll leave you two to your devices,” he said. “Dinner should be prepared within the hour. Tonight’s main dish is shabu-shabu, so cilantro should not be an issue.”

Benson retreated before Zane could ask what the feck shabu-shabu was. No matter, he supposed. Rhys hadn’t stirred yet, apparently asleep on his pool float. Zane was already scheming. He kicked off his pants and moved them aside, stripping off first his leg armor then the last layer of his upper covering, his snowy down of chest hair on full display. The final article was a simple white tank top that had seen better days. Because it hadn’t ripped or been destroyed just yet, he’d deemed it lucky. This Zane folded with careful precision and draped over the back of the chair.

Now he was just in his jockey shorts, which were a neutral black in color and hugged his arse like a snug wrapping. His only hope was that Rhys appreciated them as he took a running leap and landed right smack in the center of the pool. The tidal wave that erupted from Zane’s center of gravity arched high in the air, barreling towards Rhys’ float. It came raining down upon him, crashing against his limp form, sending it shooting up in the air. There was a few squawks and yelps as Rhys went tumbling into the water, coming up a moment later spewing water like a fountain. His expression was one of someone who’d had the fright of his life, his dead-eye stare falling on Zane. He coughed one or twice, rubbed excess water off his cybernetic arm, and kicked his legs to stay afloat. Then, mouth twisting into something devilish, he wound back his flesh arm, sending a huge wave straight towards the Operative.

Zane was caught by hysterics as it crested over him, soaking him through. Bedraggled, he looked like something that had crawled from the sewer. Rhys was equally drenched, equally hysterical. The two began an all out warfare, waves flying high and rapidly between them.

“You asshole,” Rhys said without malice. “I was enjoying that dream!”

“Who needs feckin’ dreams, boyo?” Zane shot back. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“I guess you are kind of dreamy, now that I think about it.”

“Oi! Don’t you go bein’ a sap with me all sudden like!”

The waves died down from Rhys’ end. After a second or two, Zane’s did as well. The CEO took a deep breath, holding it as he dove beneath the water. He surfaced in front of Zane, barely an inch of space between them. 

“Hey,” he said, the word drawled out, his eyelids going to half mast.

“Heyo,” Zane replied, sounding chipper.

“What brings you here?”

“For feck’s sake, Rhys.” With a roll of his eyes, Zane closed the distance between them, pressing their bodies flush together. “You know very well why me arse is here.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I may need my memory jogged a bit more.”

The Operative sighed, capturing Rhys’ mouth with his own. Hard. Skin graced with droplets of warm water slid against equally wet skin as Rhys leaned into it. He was like a thirsty man who’d happened upon an oasis, both cyber and flesh arm slipping around Zane’s torso, tongue seeking passage between the other man’s lips. Bristles tickled his skin as Zane refused him, drawing back so that just their foreheads were pressed together.

“Should save some of that enthusiasm for later,” Zane advised him. “Evenin’ hasn’t even started. We have all night.”

With a sound of mock disappointment, Rhys couldn’t help but whine a little.

“But I’m pent up _now_. I’ve been anticipating this since you called.”

“Aye, I know ye have, boyo.” Another kiss from Zane, which Rhys leaned hungrily into. A hand snaked down between them; Zane’s, seeking out Rhys’ rear in his swim trunks, grasping him. “But I got something real special for planned. We’re gonna ‘ave ourselves a real barn burner. It’ll be hot enough that we’ll both be right wrecked afterward. Best we wait until later for it, though.” 

“If you insist,” Rhys said, sounding dejected as he began to pull away.

“Cone on now, Mr. Fancypants CEO. Don’t be sendin’ this arseways. You wanted to ‘ave me for supper after all, didn’t ye?”

“Yeah, true enough. It’s just that, ya know, it’s been awhile. Since we were last together. I really enjoyed that.”

“Then stop being so bloody impatient and have a swim with me before we eat. We’ll get on with it soon enough. Scout’s feckin’ honor. Besides, I need to get me some exercise in.”

“Alright. Alright, sorry, I got a bit carried away.”

“Don’t matter none. I’m gonna flatten ya in that likely big bed of yours either way. Ye just wait ya pretty little arse for it.”

XXX

In an open cherry blossom-printed kimono made of fine Eden silk and a fresh pair of shorts, Rhys sat at the dining room table, Zane, also in a printed kimono, this one decorated with koi fish, beside him. It was far from any traditional table Zane had seen, built low to the ground and lacking in chairs of any kind. Instead there were overstuffed cushions on the floor on which Rhys had set himself down upon with his legs crossed underneath him. Zane couldn’t quite manage the position himself. Eventually he ended up sprawling along several cushions as he stretched himself out, Rhys perfectly fine with the arrangement. In the center of the table lay a feast of meats and vegetables, boiled to a tenderness that was so heavenly it melted on the tongue. Several different sauces in shallow ramekins were arranged around the plates set before the pair. In their glasses, a generous pouring of sake, the giant bottle of rice wine set on the table for refills, if desired.

“Try the sea urchin, the mellow looking golden one.” Rhys pointed out the meat with a chopstick. “It’s said to be an aphrodisiac in some cultures.”

“So that’s ye game, innit?” Zane said as he speared the aforementioned meat from the communal plate and reeled it in to one of his sauces. “Wine me, dine me, then sixty-nine me?”

There was a distinct choking sound as the piece of soy sauce laden chicken in Rhys’ mouth went down the wrong way. Alacrity guiding him, he grabbed his glass of sake and washed it down, the coughs dying to a few hiccups.

“Alright, boyo?” Zane raised his hand to give Rhys a smack on the back but the CEO shook his head and waved him off.

“Went down the wrong pipe,” he said in a strained voice. “I’ll be good in a minute.”

“Good. Don’t want ye droppin’ off on me before I can even get ya to bed.”

“Well, if you didn’t try to kill me with your sex jokes out of nowhere,” Rhys started, then gave a laugh, amused at himself.

“M’not codding you at all.” The sea urchin was popped into Zane’s mouth, lips puckering at the flavor. “Ooo, that’s right briny, innit? Kinda like a glob of butter from the sea, though. Not entirely dodgy. Reckon I don’t need it to get me langer hard, though.”

“Still nice to have a delicacy once in awhile, no?”

“And ya say m’the bloke makin with the sex zingers.”

“That was most definitely _not_ a sex joke.”

“Oi, Rhys, don’t you be tryin’ to pull that shite.” Downing the remainder of the sake in his glass, Zane let out a small burp and set his chopsticks down on the resting tray. “We both know you’re the real main dish here.”

Nipping a piece of beef from his chopsticks, Rhys chewed, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. He swallowed audibly, resting his chopsticks down as well.

“You know what?” he said. “I’m pretty full. Are you full? Because I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“I’m right stuffed, yeah. You got somethin’ in mind other than eating?” Zane asked on a rising note, as if he were preparing to say more.

“Actually, I do.” Like a deer that had folded itself down to rest, Rhys rose in one fluid motion, grabbing up the bottle of sake from the table. “Why don’t you come with me upstairs and see.”

“Ye don’t ‘ave to be askin’ me twice.” 

Hauling up the backpack he’d set down when he’d come into the dining room, Zane unfurled himself from the cushions and stood, stretching out his lean from. Crooking a finger, Rhys gave him a smile that was likely trying to be sly, but came off as over-zealous as he turned toward where the stairwell was. Zane followed him up the spiraling structure as they took the steps two at a time, their footfalls becoming quicker as it became a race upward. At the top of the landing, the Operative grasped the CEO around the waist, pulling him back against himself. Rhys leaned his head back, Zane leaning in, the two meeting in the middle as they fell into a hard, deep kiss.

Somehow both of them managed to keep their kimonos on as they collapsed on to the king-sized bed. They scrambled up the mattress, tumbling, groping, hands and mouths landing haphazardly in places. Zane got a mouthful of Rhys’ hair and laughed, the CEO nibbling at Zane’s neck. Eventually they broke apart, Zane slipping his backpack off. Rhys stretched out lazily, half draped upon him, reaching for a remote that was sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. 

“Are you really gonna put on a holo _now_ , boyo?” Zane asked, and reached for Rhys’ ass, grabbing himself a handful to pull the CEO closer.

“Not exactly. I _was_ gonna put on _Handsome Jack Tames Pandora_.” Biting down on a patch of skin, Rhys gave Zane a nip like a kitten. “But if you don’t want any visual aids, there’s always a little Digby Vermouth.”

“I won’t be needin’ the skin flick. Yer plenty enough visual fer me.”

“Digby it is, then.”

There was a soft click as the stereo came to life, the sweet, drawling notes of a saxophone rising up into the air as a song started up. Gaze falling to the backpack set aside, Rhys huddled himself against Zane even closer, nodding towards it.

“What’s in there?” he asked, voice coiling with feline levels of curiosity.

Zane propped himself up on a pillow and folded his arms behind his head. “Open it and see for yeself.”

“It’s not grenades, is it?” Rhys asked, sliding the bag over to himself, diving for the zipper. “It better not be grenades.”

Zane blew air out of his bottom lip, then snorted. “Would I bring feckin’ live grenades into yer bleedin’ house, nevermind ye bed?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you are a _Flynt_ ….”

“Don’t ye feckin’ remind me.” 

Rhys pulled open the zipper, peering into the depths of the backpack. At first, his expression was blank. But then it blossomed into surprise. He grabbed it and upended its contents on to the mattress, the objects tumbling out on top of each other.

What sat on the bed was: **a)** a kind of wearable dildo with waist strap that appeared designed for men, **b)** a cock ring and **c)** some neatly banded loops of silk rope.

Rolling on his side, Zane indicated the spread. “So, what ye wanna give a ride first?” Plucking the cock ring from the pile, the Operative palmed it. “’Cept this one. This lil’ buggers for meself.”

“Actually,” Rhys said, plucking up the rope and pointing with it. “If you open that draw there, I have some goodies of my own.”

“Can’t help but notice you picked up the rope,” Zane said as he tugged open the drawer.

“Yep,” Rhys answered him matter-of-factly.

Fishing out the two immediate sex toys and the bottle of lube he spotted, Zane examined each one in turn. One was a fleshlight with a generic enough looking hole, the other a dildo on the rather larger side in a slightly tanned color. The base was stamped with a name done in relief lettering. **Jackhammer**. There was a number in the double digits printed on the very bottom. 

“Is this that bloody Handsome Jack limited edition replica dildo?” he asked, incredulity seeping into his words. 

Rhys’ answer came sheepishly. “Long story, but yeah. Twenty-third one ever made.”

“That guy was an arseface.”

“You don’t have to remind me. But, hey, it’s a hulluva sex toy.”

“So’s me langer. Still curious what ye be wantin’ me to do with that rope, boyo.”

Voice dipping low, head bent slightly, Rhys said, “Just my wrists. Be gentle.” 

Undoing one of the smaller bands of rope, Zane helped Rhys on to his side and out of his kimono, pulling his arms in front of him and aligning his wrists with a tender touch. He measured it out against Rhys’ skin, then sent to winding and weaving. Both the CEO’s cybernetic and flesh wrists were carefully bound when Zane was finished, only his arms and fingers able to move. It was just enough immobilization to be titillating, if the sight of Rhys’ erection was anything to go by. It seemed to twitch with every breath, the head already wet with pre-cum. The Operative was unable to help himself. His hand found the base of it, giving it a few dry pumps, delighting in the way Rhys bucked at the touch.

Zane spared no time from there. Too impatient, the lube was snatched up. He applied a generous amount to the opening of the fleshlight, working it into the silicone. From his place on the bed, Rhys watched him. His mouth fell open and his hips arched slightly as the synthetic skin met the head of his cock. Zane pushed down with it, his companion groaning as he was plunged inside, the snug hole molding around his dick. It swallowed him just to slightly past his tip, teasing the sensitive flesh underneath the head until Zane tugged it up and off again.

“Enjoying yeself?” the Operative asked, grabbing Rhys by his bound wrists. The CEO nodded as Zane gently guided them over his head and rested them behind him. Rhys didn’t make any sound or movement of protest, his tongue skating out to lick at his lips as if they were dry. “Good, m’glad. Let’s take this a notch further, then.”

The bob of Rhys’ throat caught Zane’s eye. He smoothed back the younger man’s hair with his palm as he took up the fleshlight again. This time when he used it, he slipped it all the way down Rhys’ shaft. The soft rim ground against the CEO’s balls, making him squirm.

“Ya ain’t felt nothin’ yet, boyo,” Zane remarked, stretching himself out along the bed, erection pressed into the mattress beneath him. 

The friction was welcomed; a dull sensation shivering up Zane’s length, just enough to tease him without boiling over into full pleasure. His palm came up underneath Rhys’ thigh, grasping the meat of it, lean as it was. He parted the man’s legs with the one hand, spreading them wide. A pillow was hunted down and placed beneath the base of Rhys’ spine to lift him. With the hand holding the fleshlight, Zane began to pump. The soft, quick breaths built quickly in Rhys, the Operative watching his muscles shift beneath his skin like liquid as the music from the stereo system seemed to envelope them.

The bristles of Zane’s beard and sideburns tickled against Rhys’ heated flesh. He spread the CEO’s asscheeks with a single thumb, his lips parting to release the length of his tongue, the flat of it touching gingerly to Rhys’ hole. The younger man flinched as if burned, then seemed to settle down, a hiss of breath escaping him. Zane did it again, licking along the rim this time, saliva trails still connecting them as he pulled back. The gossamer strands snapped and broke, and the Operative dove in earnest this time, tongue pressing against Rhys with more aggression. Once Rhys’ hole was thoroughly wet with saliva, Zane plunged the tip of his tongue inside, angling his wrist so that the fleshlight came down at a sharper angle.

There was a loud moan as Rhys’ hips lifted off the pillow, his breathing deep, staccato. 

“Jesus, Zane,” he said, ropes creaking as his wrists strained against them, the strength in his cybernetic one pushing the bonds to their limit.

Zane lifted his head, if only for a moment. “He ain’t got a thing to do with this.”

Toes curling, Rhys breathed out a laugh. Zane worked him until he was a panting mess, his tongue plunging deeper, hand working faster. It was as if Rhys was trapped. He bucked against the fleshlight only to find that drew him further away from Zane’s tongue. Chasing Zane’s tongue, however, disturbed the fleshlight’s rhythm. It was mildly frustrating. 

Until Zane pulled off him entirely, fleshlight falling to the wayside, tongue wriggling away from him. He was left a panting mess, his head lifting slightly to see what Zane was up to. Currently the Operative had grabbed the lube again, was slicking up the **Jackhammer** dildo now. Though he’d given Rhys a thorough eating out, he still dabbed a bit of lube on his thumb, rubbing it around his hole and within him.

“I usually prep a bit more before I take that,” Rhys pointed out between breaths, “but go for it.”

“Only if ye really think ye can handle it, boyo.”

A smirk from Rhys, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What do you think?”

“M’thinkin’ the last time I had my doubts, ye went and took two blokes up yer arse like ye were not the full shilling.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Dildo pressed to his ass, Rhys held his breath. In comparison to some things he’d done in his sex life, it was pretty tame taking the hefty dildo, but that made its length and girth no less of slow going at first. He breathed out as it penetrated him, his muscles tensing for that split second of uncertainty. A hand came up to rub at his thigh, smoothing upward. It gripped Rhys’ cock, caressing the shaft, making him nearly jump out of his skin with pleasure. It had been awhile since he’d had an intimate encounter. It didn’t help that the Operative knew what he was doing, elevating the experience into the stratosphere. He was so hot he thought his bed might go up in flames. 

“Shite, if this is how you react to a bloody synthetic one, can just imagine what ye gonna be like when I finally get me mickey in ye.”

Rhys was caught between a panting breath and a laugh. It suddenly became a long, low moan as Zane pushed the dildo in deep, past the midway point. He began a steady rhythm, shallow at first. There was impeccable control in the movements of his hand, each thrust artful. 

“You can go deeper,” Rhys managed to choke out. “I can take the whole thing. I mean, if you want me to.”

It seemed too soon to be inserting that much into Rhys, but he didn’t think it was a suggestion. There was definitely an air of demand to it, in a roundabout way. At least, Zane was pretty sure of that. Twisting his wrist, he thrust the dildo all the way in, up to the soft, sculpted curves of the balls, watching as Rhys squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his teeth.

“Alright, boyo?” he questioned, feeling a thread of concern.

When his muscles had unwound and relaxed again, Rhys said, “Oh, just paying the price for my enthusiasm. I’ll survive.”

“Bloody well hope ye will. I ain’t be done with yer yet.” 

Zane drew back, pulling the dildo with him, letting just the head remain inside Rhys. He moved it back inside, gently this time. His palm stroked along Rhys’ length, feeling the pulse of desire there, squeezing. The CEO let out a yelp of ecstasy, hips bucking, impaling himself further on the sex toy. Taking the opportunity, Zane sped up. The dildo penetrated deep, plundering Rhys, driving his lust even higher. His mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ shape, Zane letting go of his dick and moving up his body for a moment, needing to catch those lips with his own. They locked tongues, mouths, their kiss deep and sloppy. When Zane returned to his ministrations, he pumped with more force, Rhys squirming as his prostate was struck by the blunt head on each forward thrust. 

His legs were quivering when Zane drew the length of the dildo out of him, tossing it to the bed where it bounced a few times. The Operative’s eye was glimmering with want, the way he gazed at Rhys full of unbridled hunger. He stripped his kimono off, taking not a moment’s hesitation, his own cock springing free. It was standing at full attention, the head purpled and damp with arousal. Around them, the music seemed to come to a crescendo, hitting a long, high note before rolling into the next track on the album. Zane took that moment to cage Rhys in, noticing the other man hadn’t moved his bound arms once. He rubbed at the flesh one, helping stimulate circulation so that Rhys didn’t become too stiff. 

They kissed once, Zane moving to Rhys’ throat to bite at the center of the tattoo there.

“I hope yer ready to take me, boyo, because I’ve got meself a real treat for ye,” he said in the CEO’s ear in a near whisper.

Rhys nodded, finding neither the breath or the ability to answer. Zane drifted away to where he’d left the last of the objects in his backpack sitting on the bed. One had been the most exotic in his collection, the other a standard cock ring. He fitted himself into the latter, threading his balls through it then his dick until it was resting at the base. The former object was hefted, making it clear for Rhys to see.

“Is that a strap-on?” the CEO asked, having noticed the object before, but still confused by why Zane would have one. 

“Yep,” Zane replied, maneuvering the belt device around his hips and inner thighs, beginning to secure the snap closures. “Don’t ye be worryin’. It’s fir blokes. Double the langers, double the fun.”

“Uh.” Shifting above him, Rhys started to lower his bound wrists, then seemed to realize what he was doing and let them fall back. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Once the belt was secure, Zane picked up the second part of the apparatus: a solid, oblong shape with a base that he fitted into a hole in the belt directly above his erection. 

“Now we can make like ye little bud’s here with us,” Zane announced, indicating both his own cock and the strap-on. “Thought ye may be appreciatin’ that bit of extra.”

“Oh.” Eyes widening, Rhys’ gaze fell on how the apparatus gave Zane a piece of extra equipment to work with. “Oh,” he said again, drawing the word out, his legs parting further as if in invitation. It may as well be, for Zane went straight for the space between them, grabbing up the backs of Rhys’ knees. “Fuck,” the CEO said, almost like a prayer. “Please. I need those in me right now.” 

Lubing both of his dongs up with a generous amount from the bottle, Zane made sure to work the liquid in until his palm glided smoothly along both.

“It would be me pleasure, Rhys,” he said, words becoming a growl as he pushed his cock inside the man first. 

The CEO wouldn’t need much preparation, considering, so Zane didn’t take the time to work him open. Guiding the sex toy, he fit it into Rhys’ hole atop his own length. The tip popped inside, but that’s when Rhys’ back arched off the bed and his muscles clenched up, preventing it from going any further. Waiting for the episode to pass, as soon as Rhys relaxed Zane was thrusting both lengths deeper, feeling Rhys’ walls crush around him again like a vice. The man gasped and groaned with pleasure, pushing back against Zane in impatience.

Leaning down, Zane locked his lips around a nipple, sucked and licked at it, Rhys’ moans like music to his ears. He broke away from it with a hard nip before moving to the other, attending to it with the same treatment. All the while he pushed his hips forward, filling Rhys more and more until he was once again striking his prostate, this time with double the equipment. The man beneath him all but came undone, sobbing out gasps, hips wild as they bucked. Zane’s own hips found a rhythm, smooth and easy. His partner was having none of it, though. 

“Harder,” Rhys all but pleaded, barely able to form words. “Please.”

Zane didn’t comply. At least not right away. He rolled his hips, cock and sex toy working in unison to drive Rhys’ state even higher. Eventually his thrusts picked up speed, pistoning as if in a frenzy, his own cries joining Rhys’ as they overpowered the music still drifting through the room. Like entities of the same ilk, their bodies were both shiny with sweat, Zane stretching upward and adjusting himself so he could gaze down at Rhys while he fucked him. The CEO’s hands flexed in their bonds, wanting desperately to reach out and caress Zane. As if sensing the other man’s state, Zane reached and undid the ropes, freeing Rhys’ arms. All at once they went around Zane, scratching down his back, blunt nails and robotic fingers dancing down his spine till they came to his ass. Rhys grabbed him, then, pulling him even closer, Zane’s balls pressed flush to him.

“I’m close,” he told the Operative. “Don’t stop now.”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it.” Zane’s voice was gruff and breathless when he spoke.

A few more thrusts was all it took. Rhys cried out, his grip on Zane becoming akin to that of a bullymong’s, squeezing him so tight it was almost as if something might rupture. Then Zane felt something warm and thick strike his abdomen and chest, looking to see that Rhys was shooting his load all over both of their stomachs. It seemed endless, coming in powerful spurts as Rhys’ cock twitched with each breath. 

Despite the cock ring, Zane wasn’t far behind. He doubled his efforts, pounding into Rhys, jarring both CEO and bed alike. Each shook with the impact of their bodies, the thump of the headboard against the wall lost beneath their ragged breaths and deep moans. Rhys continued to cling to Zane, his eyes fluttering close. His body pulsed against Zane’s double lengths inside him, making his thrusts all the more erratic. 

Soon Zane was crying out as he was cumming, his cock throbbing as he buried both it and the sex toy deep. He erupted with his release, filling Rhys with warm semen, gasping and moaning as the waves of pleasure lapped potently up his solar plexus. Zane’s hips jerked a few times of their own accord. As he took great gulping breaths, his gaze moved downward to see that Rhys had opened opened his eyes once more, was staring up at him as if he’d lost all ability to process information. A shaky, breathy laugh found its way out of Zane’s chest. He allowed himself to flop down, engulfing Rhys’ body, feeling that skinny but tenacious arm and robotic limb holding him close.

They kissed, slow and in harmony, flowing into each others movements like overlapping ripples in a pond. The music danced softly in their ears as they made out, gentle, and satiated, and impassioned.

Later, after resting before going for a second round, Zane and Rhys lay in bed embracing, simply enjoying each others presences. Rhys’ face was buried against Zane’s chest, the Operative toying with the CEO’s mussed hair. Music still swelled around them; a lazy backdrop to their even lazier states of being.

“Can’t believe you spend most of your leisure time here on ye lonesome,” Zane was saying, eye partially closed. “Seems a right shame, all this space to go round.”

“I prefer it that way, really,” Rhys answered, running his flesh fingers through Zane’s chest hair in an abstract pattern. “Besides, won’t be lonely for long. Vaughn should be here tomorrow. It’s…my birthday.”

“What, issit? And you weren’t going to invite _me_ to the shindig, boyo?” With a snort, Zane managed to sound mock offended. “After I gone and slept with ye, that’s the kinda treatment m’gonna be gettin’?”

“I didn’t even know if you would remember that I’d offered for you to sleep with me,” Rhys murmured, glancing upward. “I mean, I haven’t heard from you in months. Not since we last saw each other on **Sanctuary III**.”

“Course I remembered. How can I forget you and yer lil’ bud? Hottest time I’ve had all year, and I’ve had meself some hot bloody times this year.”

“Well, then I stand corrected, Mr. Flynt. I’ll be sure to invite you next time I’m planning something big here.”

“How come it’s only sexy when _ye_ call me that? Ah, well, don’t matter none.” Zane grinned, stroking Rhys’ back. “I’ll be a happy bloke to accept an invitation like that.”

“Glad to hear it.” Clearing his throat, Rhys’ next words came uncertainly, but were clear enough. “Do you wanna, uh, maybe go again? Only if you want to. I mean, if you can…I guess”

The grin that passed over Zane’s features was infectious.

“Course I bloody well can,” he said. “Anythin’ for the birthday boyo.”

Then Zane rolled them over, pouncing on a yelping Rhys.


End file.
